


The Root of the Root

by scarlotti



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Speculation on S4, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlotti/pseuds/scarlotti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ch. 4: She hates that something else needs to come first – she needs to fill in the gaps. She doesn’t know what they are, but she knows where to start.  “Nathan, what happened to Stan?”{CH 3. REWRITE}{POST S3 FINALE AU}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Carry Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Haven : obviously not mine, though I do have a nifty ornament. HUGE Shout out to Enigma731 (ff.net) who forced me to write when I wanted to quit and did an excellent job as beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine. Title: Taken from E.E. Cummings "I Carry Your Heart With Me" (also very much not mine.) We can get through Hellatus together!

 

" _here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide"_

E.E. Cummings _, I Carry Your Heart With Me_

* * *

White.

White and sterile and bare.

The silence is nearly deafening, and Audrey can hear her own ragged breathing.

This must be what having your heart torn from your chest feels like; she realizes that she'll almost feel grateful when _these_ memories are taken from her, almost. She doesn't want to forget, but she doesn't think that she can live with this.

_It hurts._

For a moment, it's the only thing she can think. But she's keeping him safe, keeping everyone safe for another twenty seven years.

" _And we'll get to do this all over again."_

Right now, she has to find their son, and that is enough to propel her into action.

"Howard!" Her voice cracks, laced with rage and tears. It echoes wretchedly down the empty halls. This place itself is a punishment, she thinks absently. Its very bones are a reminder of being unmade. Audrey stands stalk still, willing something – anything – to happen.

" _James!"_ She takes off now, her mind a whirling pit of anxiety.

She doesn't know how this works, how long she has as Audrey Parker, how long she's allowed to remember, and that hurts. Her thoughts spin mad.

_James_.

_Howard_.

_Who the hell designed this endless maze?_

_Where the hell is Howard?_

And everything she left behind; _everyone_ she left behind.

_But they're safe._

She doesn't even bother trying to catch the hot tears as they track paths down her cheeks, and her panic is building into frenzy. What feel like hours passing are more than likely just minutes, but she was expecting _something._

" _Howard!_ Where is my son! Let me see my son!" Her throat is raw from screaming, and bordering on hysterics. How long has she been screaming?

She can't go yet, can't let the Barn take her without at least giving her this.

_Just this._

_Please, just this._

It hits suddenly – shaking, shimmering, and a low howling sound reminiscent of a wind tunnel. She's not sure what is supposed to happen, but this sets off a thousand warning bells in her head. When she yells Howards name again, the rage is gone and replaced by a different type of fear; she knows, without knowing, that it will only get worse before it gets better.

James.

He's here suddenly, roughly a hundred feet in front of her and facing away. Relief hits her like ice water.

" _James!"_

She's moving to meet him when the floor heaves, sending them both sprawling. James sees her now and he makes an awkward lunge across the floor towards her.

Something slides – half writhing mass, half projectile – across the space between them and makes a sickening thud against the far wall, hitting hard. Their eyes have no choice but to follow it, even as she feels dread sinking in.

Arla.

Arla's body doesn't move; limbs hang at oddly contorted angles. It sends a nauseating knife into Audrey's gut; _this_ is very, very wrong.

"Arla!" James yells it with a mewling desperation that she knows all too well; he knows she's dead. And she knows that even despite the way it ended, there's still some small part of James that remembers the Arla from before all this – the Arla that he had loved.

The entire room is still shifting and rumbling and she makes her own lunge to where James is stretched prone, his eyes still fixed on Arla's body….on where Arla's body _was._ Audrey blocks out the way it's sliding/falling down the long hall in an odd pinwheel fashion.

_James._

She has to get to James. Her brain registers the sound of her own name – she knows the voice – mere seconds before something – _someone -_ hits her hard in the right side, and rolls with her in a tangle of arms and legs flinging them into the hard side of the Barn. She finds herself cushioned somewhat, the other body pressed between her own and the wall.

And just as suddenly as it began, it all stops.

"Shit."

Her heart leaps in her chest, even as it twists painfully. She hadn't realized that she had hoped, for just a minute, but still…Audrey knows that voice and the mop of dark hair that is fanned above her head.

"Duke?" Her question sounds anxious to her own ears. "How are you...what are you…"

"Shit, shit, shit." Dukes got a hand to his face and a thin trickle of blood is running from his nose. He pushes up into a sitting position and attempts to stem the flow with a sleeve.

Audrey shouldn't feel so giddy right now, but _something_ has changed, every part of her knows it and hope runs rampant through her.

She could hug him right now, and then she remembers and twists around.

"James?" He's huddled near where she had last seen him, kneeling, and his eyes fixed on nothing.

She's only known him for a day, but that look _tears her up inside_.

Audrey reaches a hand out, touching the side of his face, gently enough not to startle. She can feel the muscles of his jaw flexing under her fingertips and she rests back on her heels as she crouches in front of him, running her free hand through his hair. She's not sure if it's instinct or some **stale** memory resurfacing, but it feels natural; she does it without a thought. This is her _son_. The feeling is so strong, so certain, that she can't categorize it.

This, at least, she didn't lose.

Audrey wonders if this is how she felt as Lucy, when she met him, the certainty of _knowing_ that connection, even if she hadn't known why or what it was. What must it have been like, all of this time, thinking that the woman who was his mother had tried to kill him? She wants to mourn Arla, for James' sake, but she can't bring herself to do it. Audrey can't fathom how hard it was for Arla to live with a Trouble that managed to isolate her so completely from everyone. She can't imagine how hard it was for the girl to be left behind, knowing that someone she loved was gone, that she may never see them again and she have _no choice_ but to let them go.

And then she thinks of Nathan.

James brings a hand up rubbing it across his eyes, in a motion that reminds her so much of Nathan and late hours poring over case files that it's startling.

_So much like his father._

_A father he may never know._

It's a uniquely cruel twist of fate. Of all the men that deserve to know their child, Nathan Wuornos should have gotten a chance to have that.

James returns her concerned stare now, his own is resigned and unwavering at the same time. He looks like a man who's just said goodbye, for the last time. She realizes that he did.

"Okay, I enjoy a train ride as much as the next guy, but last I checked, they have a designated stops **.** " Duke's nose has stopped bleeding, and the only evidence is a dark stain on the cuff of his sleeve. His joking words are at odds with his posture; it's all hard edges and tightly wound coils, "And, not to interrupt here, but I think our engineer might have fallen asleep at the switch."

What he's saying takes a moment to process; when it does, she stands quickly.

"What happened to Howard?" Her question almost seems redundant, but between the lack of sleep and the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, her thoughts are starting to fray around the edges. Duke's face sobers and Audrey sees emotions waging war with reason. So much has happened in the last few minutes _alone_ , that she's managed to forget everything outside of this maddening prison. Duke wraps one hand around the back of her head, pulling her into a vise-like hug. She returns it, momentarily. She doesn't know how he got here, but he's here and she's still _Audrey_ , and between the two of them, she has the terrifying and thrilling thought that they just might manage to make it back. Duke exhales solidly into her hair, and steps back. She catches James moving slightly in her peripheral vision.

_The three of them_.

"Nathan…" Duke stops and looks like he's searching for words. The knot in her stomach is back. "Jordan…she came back, after everyone had left."

"What?" It's the first time that James has spoken and Duke's eyes flick briefly to him with a hint of question, before settling back on Audrey.

_He doesn't know,_ she thinks, and he deserves to, but he continues before he can even begin to figure out how to tell him.

Duke's voice drops and the words fall fast and hard, "Nathan threatened Howard; he thought somehow Howard was tied to the Barn." He seems to realize that this explanation is unnecessary and stops for a split second, eyes briefly closing. His face tightens before he continues. "Jordan…she shot Nathan. Twice. I couldn't get there in time. I tried, but…" He trails off, looking to Audrey, and the anguish is clear on his face – etched along his brow and jaw. The shine in his eyes begins to take on the appearance of tears, and understanding drums into her.

He thinks Nathan's dead.

_He blames himself,_ she realizes, but it's only a passing thought; the rest of her is frozen, her mind locked in a repeating loop of Nathan, dying again, and again. Internally, she screams. That this wasn't supposed to happen. This can't be how it ends _,_ not with so many things unsaid, so many things undone. They were supposed to get another chance. Twenty-seven years was nothing compared to _this._

_Twenty-seven years._

_He was supposed to have a life._

She catches hold of the only thing she can – shot, not dead. Duke didn't say Nathan was dead.

_But he thinks it._

Her mouth is half open, and she belatedly tries to wipe the stricken look off of her face. One hand reaches back, finding James' who's silence has taken on a stricken quality. The other closes on Duke's bicep, trying to offer something – reassurance, forgiveness that he does not need, but seems to be begging for anyhow – when all she can feel is dull nothingness.

Her contact seems to be the permission he needs.

"Nathan, shot Howard. I think he killed him. I got to Nathan right after and I took care of Jordan." He pauses, with a question in his eye. The meaning behind Duke's words is clear. Audrey tries feeling the sympathy for Jordan that she's so often felt. She can't. She gives him a short nod and concentrates on the sound of his voice, holding on to that; she tries to process the words as he goes on.

"After Nate shot Howard, things got all…" he stops again. When he restarts, his voice is filtered with incredulity. "Howard and the barn started to break apart into beams of light. It sucked in Arla," now his gaze jumps to James again, with something that almost looks like fleeting apology. Duke's eyes fall back on Audrey and he she can see him swallowing hard. His voice is rough with the unshed tears that are still hanging right behind his eyes. "He sent me, Audrey. He told me to find you. He wanted you safe."

He says it like an offering.

"I…...I just ran and jumped." The phrase sounds awkward, but the image is clear. And she squeezes his arm again, because he threw himself into nothingness, on no more than a hope and Nathan's word.

"And then," Duke gestures to their previous position, "we played chicken with the wall and lost." His humor is forced and she can tell that the performance is largely for her benefit. She makes a half-hearted attempt at a smile that is only marginally successful, pulling sadly at one corner of her mouth. She can hear the ticking of seconds in the quiet.

"Audrey." Duke's hands close around her shoulders, solidly, intently, and he manages a wry grin, "Nathan Wuornos is without a doubt the most irritatingly _stubborn_ bastard that I have ever met. If anyone will find a way to pull through, it's him."

He sounds like he's trying to convince himself as much as anyone.

_They have to get back._

This thought gives her direction and purpose; it gives her something to fight for. She won't mourn Nathan now, not when there is even the smallest chance…

"James." The mind-numbing haze fades and her attention swings fully to her son. _Our son,_ she thinks again as she takes in his pained expression. He's lost the love of his life and the father he never knew, all in the span of a handful of hours.

Audrey wants _time_ – time to get to know him, to be a mother, time to help him grieve. But there is none. She reflects bitterly that at least there is always this one constant. She never has time. She wishes that she didn't have to do this now, wishes there was an alternative to pushing him for answers that he's in no condition to give.

"James," it's softer this time and she waits until finally meets her eyes. "The last time…when you arrived in Haven, did Howard say anything? Is there anything that could help us get back."

"Do you know how this thing operates?" Duke's question is fast on the heels of hers and it draws James's attention. She can see his hackles rise immediately.

"No." It's funny how one man can provoke nearly identical reactions in a father and son who have never known one another. James rubs a hand across the back of his neck and takes a deep breath, collecting himself before continuing.

"My time inside," he grimaces at the word, "it's all a haze, really. I remember waking up and he was there. Told me that it was the close of another cycle. He said that we were back in Haven, but….twenty-seven years later. Said I could find you there," James looks to Audrey, and she can see him try to process everything he's been told, everything he's thought true, and everything that he's seen in the last day, "that you had all the answers to escape the Barn."

James's brow furrows slightly, "He said you just didn't know it yet." Now he shakes his head, and rolls his shoulders; some of the weight seems to fall from them.

"He just," he steps to the entrance of the Barn, the lines of the closed doors; they stand out now in stark contrast against the flat white of the wall, "walked over and opened the door and we were there. He asked me where I wanted to go first."

He shrugs now, clearly questioning whether any of the information that he's given will prove even slightly useful.

"Okay," Audrey's running every word that Howard has spoken to her in the brief moments they've been together, adding to it what James is able to remember. There has to be an answer here. "We know that something happened to the Barn, probably relating to its connection with Howard." She begins to walk around as she's speaking, looking for anything out of place, any abnormality that might offer direction. She hears herself listing off theories, discounting them almost as quickly as she lays them out.  
The long expanse of barren hall stretches to either side, mocking them with its seemingly endless string of windows, doors, and corridors.

"Or," Duke's comment pulls her up short, and she wonders how long she's been rambling, marking it as longer than she thought by the slightly impatient note in his tone. Duke steps to where James is still standing, leaning against a wall and watching them both with an indifferent expression. James is leaning next to the door she belatedly realizes, and Duke presses his palms flat against its planks. She sees his intention in the second before he follows through and there's enough time for her feet to carry her within an arm's reach of his denim-covered back.

"What _if_ we just tried the door?"

Duke steps back, glances at her over his shoulder briefly, and then drives forward – with unexpected force – against the smooth surface in front of him.

"Duke!"

Audrey can still see his face as it gives way; his expression changes to one of shock as he lurches forward and out. Audrey grasps at him as he falls, catching an elbow. She feels James's arms closing around her waist and half expecting the three of them to tumble into some kind of phantom abyss. Instead, she finds herself momentarily sandwiched between the two men, as Duke manages to regain his footing.

The air is crisp.

It's the first thing that strikes her as they disentangle and she draws a sharp breath. The second is that it is dark – nearly pitch dark.

"I was actually not expecting that to work." She vaguely hears Duke's perplexed comment, but her attention is largely focused elsewhere.

She's trying to mentally calculate the number of hours that she's been inside. Something is off.

"Wait." Duke does a slow turn. "There were…."

He turns again, his confusion evident even in the dark, and stops when he's facing Audrey. His voice is tense, "Audrey. The meteors? They didn't stop. When you went into the barn, they didn't stop. There should be, I don't know….fires, craters."

Now he turns again, more quickly, "This isn't Kickem' Jenny Neck."

It's not.

She didn't notice it at first, but this isn't right. She wonders what else she's missed.

The cloud cover shifts, in unspoken consent; the nearly full moon reveals the first view of their surroundings.

_What happened._

Haven.

It's off in the distance, a few miles away, but it's Haven.

The now familiar feel of fear hangs tight in her chest.

It's Haven, but not the Haven she remembers. She can see, in that instant, long deep gouges running along the intermittent hills and valleys, furrows cut through tree lines. Obvious reminders of a devastating meteor shower. She's never heard of a meteor shower like this.

Farther off, the line of Haven is marred; she can't make out individual buildings, but she knows that silhouette. She's still staring, trying to make sense of what she's seeing, and she can't shake the feeling that something is still _very_ wrong.

She feels Duke's fingers on her shoulder, pulling slightly.

"Audrey," He's holding something out to her. His cell phone, she realizes. She doesn't have time to consider how it survived the Barn, or whether its accurate; instinct tells her that it is

"This can't be right." Audrey looks between Duke and James, who, though still silent, has steps up to join her words. But it is. She knows it is.

_Three years._


	2. The Root of The Root, Ch 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He only lets himself miss them one day a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer/Author's Note: Haven - obviously not mine, though I do have a nifty ornament. HUGE Shout out to Enigma731(ff.net) who is STILL forcing me to write and is my excellent Beta. Any remaining mistakes are mine. Title: Taken from E.E. Cummings "I Carry Your Heart With Me"
> 
> HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who took time to "kudos" and to Laura and SiriCerasi for your comments. They make my day shiny.
> 
> We can get through Hellatus together!
> 
> Rating: T  
> Pairing: NA, DNA/friendship

  
_here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of the tree called life; which grows  
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide  
_-E.E.Cummings, _I Carry Your Heart_  


He only lets himself miss them one day a year.

Nathan turns his glass slightly, and the low light from the table lamp reflects back, scattering the amber tones of the Jack Daniels across his table.

At first, right after, he couldn't go a day without the staggering weight of loss striking him – an emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole, if he let it.

_He misses her._

Misses all of them.

Duke's smug, self-confident ass. The constant chatter and sarcastic remarks. He hates himself a little for spending so long holding the man at arm's length, expecting the worst from him. He hates Duke a little for pushing back at every opportunity. But mostly he hates that they were _just_ getting some semblance of a friendship built, that he was finally to learning to trust his one-time friend again, despite everything.

He drinks the first shot for lost friendship and imagines the burn of the liquor sliding down his throat.

_One day a year._

In the beginning, when it looked like Haven might tear itself apart from the inside out and the outside in all at once, and the town needed him more than he thought it would, Dwight came to him and told him in that the least he could do was honor their memory and that he was doing a piss poor job of it. He told him that Garland would have expected more from him. After that, Nathan had decided that he'd only allow himself one day a year. One day to mourn them, one day to miss them. One day to be selfish. The rest he'd fight like hell.

For the town.

For the ones that were left.

To bring _them_ home.

To have something left to fight for and with.

_For a chance to do it all over again._

Even if it takes twenty-seven years.

Next time they'll have more than a few tangled clues and vague stories to go on.

He pours another two fingers of Jack.

This time he drinks to James, the boy who grew into a man without knowing that he had a father. _A father who would have loved him - who did love him._ Nathan has mulled this over, time and time again, what he would do differently, if he had the chance. And he's come to the conclusion that he doesn't know. He told Audrey that it was a way to be her; that was true. But it was a partial truth. Because the truth is that Sarah was Sarah, but there was something in her that was _Audrey_ too, and that is something that he can't wrap his head around, but knows anyway.

And James?

He can't regret James. Even if he would have given anything to be there for his son, what information he _can_ find tells him that James was raised in a loving home; he had a good life, before Haven.

And right now, he tries to tell himself, James is with his mother, and neither of them is alone.

He drinks to a son he'll never know.

And he pours again.

He drinks to the Chief, all of his awkward advice and hard-nosed, well-meaning-but-often-backward parenting technique. To the man that raised another man's son as his own, and tried to show him love the only way he knew how. Nathan isn't that far gone, but he brings the empty glass down on the table – very, very hard – and watches as it shatters, his hand closing tightly around the remnants.

_He misses his dad._

He uncurls his fingers slowly, and stares at the rivulets of blood that track down his palm. Several of the longer shards are imbedded, just beneath the surface. Nathan tightens his fist again, and marvels at the ability to feel nothing and everything in the same moment. Then he gets up, deposits the mixture of glass and blood in the garbage and removes the remnants from the table and floor. He cleans the wound and haphazardly wraps gauze around his injured hand - because in twenty four hours he'll need that hand again. He removes any remaining pieces from the table and floor, and grabs a second shot glass, repeating his earlier motions. Names and faces play behind his eyes in a never-ending progression.

Nathan drinks for Marion Cartwright, and every Troubled person who has lost their life because of their own affliction. For Conrad, who's lost everything he ever cared about and still manages to help hold the town together.

He drinks for Stan, and the fact that he doesn't remember the man ever uttering an unkind word to anyone. Stan - the man who was brave when it counted and lost his life saving the lives of so many others. Saving _his_ life _._

He drinks for the ones he couldn't save.

And a part of him wishes that he could feel the burning in his eyes instead of just seeing the wavering of his vision. He knows the tears regardless, knows they won't fall. They never fall. Not anymore.

_He misses her._

Audrey - the way that she didn't take his crap when they first met. The way she made him feel alive again, like he wasn't some _thing_ standing on the outside and looking in.

" _You're the one person that I can absolutely trust."_

The way she acted on instinct and wasn't willing to back down. The fact that he'd never in all his life met anyone who managed to be so willful and so compassionate at once. And although he misses the feel of her skin against his, he misses the sound of her and the sight of her and the way that she tested his morning coffee. In moments like these, he admits to himself that he's glad the Troubles didn't leave with the Barn, because if they had, every sensation would be a constant reminder that being able to feel didn't mean a damn thing when he couldn't feel _her._

He drinks for _her_ and _them_ and, for a moment, lets himself wallow in self-pity.

He makes his promise now, the same one that he's made for the last three years: in twenty seven years, if she comes back, _when_ she comes back - when Audrey with-someone-else's-memories finds someone to love, he'll make damn sure that _that_ idiot doesn't waste his precious time. He amends the thought: he'll just make sure that she has _time_. He's going to find a way to end this thing.

He grasps the bottle neck and slowly swirls the contents around, watching the liquid rolling back and forth inside.

" _I'm not going to let this be our last night together."_

He presses his forehead against the solid surface of the table and closes his eyes.

^v^v^

It's nearing midnight as they approach the police station, and every step into town has brought the toll of the aftermath into sharper focus. The streets are deserted, and while the damage to the actual structures in town is less severe than she had originally thought, Audrey is struck by the disrepair of most that remain. The meteors didn't do _this_.

What used to be down-town Haven has all the friendliness of a ghost town.

Or a war-zone.

Three miles ago, James's health had been foremost in her mind, but his assurances that he felt _nothing_ of the effects of the Barn left her cautiously hopeful that some tenuous link connecting him to it has been severed. The fear is still there, in the back of her mind, that this is too easy; they're operating in the realm of the unknown, even for Haven, and she may never shake the feeling that at any moment _her son_ is going to curl into a sweating, trembling ball on the ground.

And now that the Barn's disappeared…she can't bring herself to finish that train of thought, so she pushes it aside for the moment.

It had taken roughly a half hour to realize that her constant inquiries were proving little more than a tedious annoyance to James. His answers were returned in as few words as possible, though his attempt at patience was evident.

Duke's quips, however, were a pointed attempt to get under his skin.

"He ever shut up?"James shoots the question at her half an hour in.

"You know, I thought Nathan had the corner on dry, but apparently it comes standard with the flannel."

Now, Duke has fallen completely silent to her left and both he and James are throwing pointed glances at stray shadows formed by the futile efforts of streetlights. Here and there, there are scattered lights inside of houses, and she tells herself that the desolate appearance is the effect of the late hour, but she knows that it's not.

Not entirely.

Audrey reaches a run as she hits the station stairs and the men come equally fast, taking them two at a time behind her. Anxiety is cutting ribbons through her, and she pulls up suddenly at the front door, James and Duke clattering to a halt at her back.

She didn't think past this moment. She couldn't bring herself to. And now she can't tear her gaze away from that handle and everything that may _not_ be waiting for her on the other side.

_Please._

It's pounding in her head like a mantra.

_Please, just this._

She pulls the door open.

The light is on inside the Chief's office, inside _Nathan's_ office, but the shoulders and back she see's bent slightly at the waist – they're not Nathan's – and her heart thuds in her ears. The man straightens in response to their footfall.

Relief floods her.

"Dwight!" Audrey's voice holds both surprise and a small amount of joy. She's been gone for less than a day, and the amount of relief she feels when she recognizes him is disproportionate to that brief time.

His once-buzzed hair is drawn back in a short ponytail but aside from that, the normalcy is nearly eerie. Dwight's whole body stiffens and the papers in his hand drop to the desktop. A badge and a taser stand out against the denim of his jeans, and for some reason it's enough to make everything seem that much more real.

Audrey's throat goes dry as just how much could have changed – how much _has_ changed – during their absence sinks in fully.

Dwight turns woodenly, something like grief is settled at the corners of his eyes and his mouth forms a tight line.

"Audrey." It's the only thing he says for a moment. Statement, not question, but she can see him processing as his eyes scan first her and then Duke and James. The scene has an odd feel to it, as if it's playing in slow motion. She's struck by the need to say something, anything really, but the words won't come. They're tangled in a too-fast rush at the back of her tongue. Her eyes move to Nathan's desk – to what _was_ Nathan's desk. She's looking for anything that's familiar.

The lamp is gone and the nameplate obscured.

_Come on, come on._

But then her eyes catch on a familiar mug.

" _Go Black Bears."_

She lets out a long slow sigh and Duke steps to her side.

"Sasquatch! They just hand out badges to anyone these days or did you get an extra special prize in _your_ Cracker Jack box?" Duke sounds so loose and natural that Audrey feels some of the anxiety bleed out of her.

Dwight lets out a noise that's somewhere between a laugh and an exhalation. It's funny really, that that's all it takes, and suddenly she and Duke are sandwiched in what can only be described as a bear hug. She can feel the stiff edges of the Kevlar vest under his shirt and wonders – not for the first time – if he knows his own strength.

Duke protests finally and Dwight releases them, shifting slightly to the side to clap James on the arm, hard. His gesture is returned with a wary stare. A smile is spread wide across Dwight's face and it almost manages to hide the tired bewilderment in his eyes.

He rubs a paw against the back of his neck, crosses his arm across his chest, and just _looks_ at them.

"I'd ask you where you've been, but considering the meteor shower and the Troubles stickin' around, we figured something was different." It's a statement, but it has a question to it.

She wants to answer, but instead a question of her own forms before she has the chance, "Dwight, we walked into town and the damage..." she stops, afraid of the answer, even though knowing won't change anything, "how bad was it?"

"Bad."

He says "bad", but she hears _"Horrible."_

"We lost some to the meteors, more to the panic.," Dwight's using generalizations, but she can tell that he knows the numbers, remembers every name., "Meteors quit within twenty-four hours, but…"

His jaw clenches, and everything in her wants to run, wants to continue _not knowing._

"The panic, the meteors, they triggered Troubles, a lot of Troubles. We lost some to that, some to the aftermath." His voice is rough around the edges., "Friends turned on each other. Families…"

His eyes look through them now, and he's gritting the words out through sheer force of will, "We lost Stan, Audrey. Lost Marion. Buck Grimes." His eyes land on Duke and Audrey registers him turning slightly, even as her mind focuses on those first two names. She feels weak. To her right, Duke sinks back and to the side, finding a seat along the wall and collapsing into it. She feels like she should go to him, comfort him somehow – obviously that name means something – but she can't.

_Stan._

_Marion._

Those names are only two of what she knows are so very many more. Pain tightens around her lungs and heart and she has to remind herself to breath. She feels the weight of a hand on her shoulder and it's got an achingly familiar weight.

She almost expects to see Nathan suddenly beside her.

James has been standing silently, hanging back until now. Now he gives her shoulder a slow squeeze, almost shyly, letting his arm rest for just a moment around her shoulder's, across her back, in an awkward and amazingly comforting half-hug. She wants to cry – for Marion, for Stan, for this boy who is left comforting the mother that he's only just met. She feels the burning of tears behind her eyes, but it's quickly replaced by something else.

She wants to fix this.

"Dwight," Audrey's voice is measured and slow and has only the faint remnant of a quaver in it, "Where's…"

The question dies in her throat.

"Nathan?" Dwight finishes for her; she's not surprised that he knows where that it ends. "I'll take you to him."

He reaches back, grabbing keys off the desk and moving to step past her. He comes up short at the last minute, resting a hand on her forearm. "Good to have you back."

His eyes pass over the other two. Duke is still sitting, hands clasped and resting forward on his elbows.

"James?" Dwight's attention causes James's brow to furrow, and Audrey feels a strange amount of pride in knowing that he's gone through all of this and is somehow managing to take it all in stride. As if it was simply a matter of _deciding_. And he's chosen. Dwight releases her arm and nods his head towards the door. "Why don't you help me bring the van around?"

James cocks an eyebrow in silent question to her and she nods, and just like that, he releases her and follows the Cleaner out.

As the doors close behind them Audrey steps over and sinks down into the seat beside Duke.

After a minute of silence, Duke exhales slowly, and tips his head forward, mouth set in a tight line.

"This is my fault." Audrey says it, puts words to the thought that has been on her mind since they first caught sight of Haven.

"Huh," Duke's dry chuckle is hard, but it's not a condemnation – not yet. It's an opening, and she holds her tongue for a moment, because she knows there's more. He breathes in and out again.

"You know," he begins, and she feels her breath catch, willing him to say it – these people, this town, they're lost because of _her_. "Buck gave me my first boat ride. I was six at the time and my main goal in life was to piss off authority. Buck sorta took me in when my dad…he saw something in me worth …saving, I think. He looked past my messed up family, my asshole behavior, and saw something worth fighting for. I figured with parents like mine, there was no use in trying to change what I was. That I'd only be fooling myself if I thought I could be anything better. Buck, well, he disagreed." Duke's laugh is softer now. "I asked him why, later. Why did he put up with all of my shit when all he had to do was let me be someone else's problem. He told me…"

Duke stops, but Audrey's still so busy wrapping herself around his sudden honesty that she can't formulate any kind of response.

"He told me that sometimes what's right wasn't always what was easy. He told me that everyone needed someone to believe in them, to fight for them." Duke's eyes burn into her for a moment, before he turns away. Audrey can tell that even if he didn't quite love Buck, losing him was more of a blow than he had expected. She puts a hand between his shoulders and rubs a small circle as Duke pinches the bridge of his nose for a few long seconds.

And then he straightens and stands, pivoting to face her. If she was confused before, she now knows it shows on her face.

" _This?_ " One hand circles in the air as he continues. "This is not your fault. Your life shouldn't be payment for ours. And you know what? Maybe it's time that this town fights for you for a change."

He looks so determined and stalwart that she almost wants to laugh, but instead she utters a strange sound that's oddly like a hiccup. Abruptly, Duke's face relaxes and he grins, offering her a hand up.

"Now let's go find Nathan." It's melodramatic, and he knows it, but they're both smiling as they head for the door.

^v^v^

The van has fallen into pensive silence as they make the trip to Nathan's house. Duke rides up front with Dwight, and James sits beside her. She expects the quiet is as much from exhaustion as anything, though she knows that some part of James is wondering about Nathan as well. She knows he has questions, knows there are so many things that she needs to answer.

But right now all she can think about is getting to Nathan. She'll deal with the rest later.

The drive seems simultaneously longer and shorter than it should, and by the time Dwight pulls to a stop, she's nearly out the rear door, pausing only briefly to throw a quiet and pleading "Give me a minute," over her shoulder.

Audrey takes the steps in a blur and is somewhat surprised, but thankful that her hand finds the front door unlocked. She comes up short just inside the door. "Cozy" comes to mind, oddly; a warm glow emanating from the open hearth, casting the only light in the room.

Nathan's sitting, his forehead resting against the table – she can see him turning something slowly in his hand - and the familiarity of his collared blue shirt, rolled sleeves, and tussled hair relaxes the knot in her throat.

"Nathan…." Breathy and full of relief. Eagerness.

He's standing before the word is out and has made a full turn to face her. His chair clatters against the wood floor as it falls.

He looks harder, all muscle and edges, and his eyes are red-rimmed and distant. But it's _Nathan_ , and a day's worth of unshaven stubble catches her someplace between sorrow and longing.

_Three years and he's still here._

She's so relieved that she misses it at first.

His arm is outstretched and his gun reflects the fire in flashes of gold, tossing a long shadow against the far wall.

It's trained squarely at her chest.

He's not smiling.

"No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You may hate me for killing Stan and Marion. I kinda hate myself :(.


	3. Tread Softly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some part of him is listening, so why does he look like she's breaking him? Co-authored by Enigma731 (FF) {CHAPTER REWRITE 6/27}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER REWRITE 6/27 
> 
> First, for your reviews, follows, and faves – you rock, many thanks, TRULY. HUGE Shout out to Enigma731, my excellent Co-Author/Beta on this chapter. Remaining mistakes are mine, but I blame her for my addiction to the Dark Knight Rising soundtrack and Haven RP :P.

 

_I have spread my dreams under your feet;  
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams._

-          _W.B. Yeats, “Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven”_

“No.” The word rings out in the enclosed space, even though Nathan’s voice is barely above a whisper. His eyes have gone wide and she recognizes that look, partially.  _Jackie Clark._

 “Nathan? Nathan…it’s okay. It’s me.” Her hands drop instinctively, affecting a posture that’s as non-threatening as possible. Inwardly she’s kicking herself. She hasn't thought this through. She hasn't thought about his reaction.

“Don’t.” It’s a growl, really, and he’s all hard edges and taut muscle. The part of her that’s cataloging the moment takes in the details; she makes a note to ask him when she’s no longer staring him down the barrel of his sidearm. He’s wearing his holster at home, but he’s left his front door unlocked. He didn’t react to their approach - to their presence - at all until she called his name; when he did, the reaction was instant.

He hadn’t been concerned until that moment. And now he’s holding a gun on her.

_What the hell happened in the last three years?_

She’s observing and making a frantic attempt at pulling the pieces together, but she’s missing _something_ here. There’s the familiar taste of panic in the back of her throat.

“Nathan? It’s me. It’s Audrey. Nathan, I need you to put down the gun.” Audrey reminds herself to breathe slowly, forcing a steady, melodic cadence. She’s forming words to fill the silence, to explain what can’t be explained like this.

_We’ve been gone a day and left you for years._

 “We’re back, Nathan. Duke and James…the Barn came back. It wasn’t…we were only inside for a few hours.” Even to _her_ ears it sounds hollow, lacking.

“I don’t know who or _what_ you are.” He spits the words out – venomous and pleading - and the lines of his body are rigid; he brings his second hand up to steady his aim. “Get out. Now.”

_I’ve been gone for a day._

_I’ve left you for three years._

What was it like for him?

It’s a foolish question; his face is wild, his hand is freshly and poorly bandaged - clearly still bleeding - and he looks worn, haggard.

His finger is still on the trigger.

“Nathan…”

“Do not push me. Not tonight.” Pain. Anger. Longing. Between harsh phrases he’s grinding his jaw, hard. A warning is sounding in her mind, but she’s too exhausted and too wired to make sense of it.

“How’re you going to play it this time? Memories? Lucid dreams? You think that you can just show up here and wear her face and use her voice and expect me to…what…roll over?” His voice has grown disturbingly calm and increasingly crazed all at once. “Hasn’t worked yet. You’re wasting your time.”

“ _What_ hasn’t, Nathan?” Audrey’s willing him to talk to her more than anything - grasping at straws - and he’s so close to the edge of everything that he needs little prompting.

“Isn’t that how this works? You tell me something I want to hear, something _she_ would tell me.” Nathan pauses for a moment and stares off, then abruptly begins crying. Audrey’s never seen him truly cry before this moment - he takes it all in stride, it’s what he _does_ – and it hurts in a way that she can’t put a name to.

But some part of him is listening.

So why does he look like she’s _breaking_ him?

“Nathan?” her voice is pained, wavering slightly and rough around the edges. “I’m sorry,” more softly still, “I'm sorry that we left you alone. I didn't know. I thought that I could keep you safe. I thought I could keep Haven safe. But I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to leave _you_. If there had been any other way…”

She trails off because it’s not quite a lie, but at best, it’s an omission. There is another way. But it will never be an option.

Audrey can see him hesitate, just slightly.

“I needed to keep you safe, Nathan. I couldn’t lose you. I thought…” It’s repetitive, and she doesn’t know how to say what she needs to pull him back. She can’t find the words to explain the poorly patch-worked thoughts that her mind is manufacturing.

The man she’d thought that Lucy had loved and lost had turned out to be her son.

That _Nathan_ \- the man that she loves - _was_ James's father.

That even as Sarah, she’d still found _him._

That she’s sorry that she’d had to leave him behind because she couldn’t let the Barn have him, too. She’d selfishly needed to know that at least _he’d_ be here to come back to, and somehow that had made leaving bearable.

That she’d rather lose him for twenty-seven years, because she can’t risk losing him for good.

_“Twenty-seven years Nathan, and we’ll get to do it all over again,”_ echoes through Audrey’s head and tears at her heart. It’s all wrapped up in madness and memory.

“Nathan, I couldn’t lose you.” She says it hard this time, raw and with finality. “If something had happened to you, I…” the words pool inside her before they spill out. “Nathan, you’re the one thing that I couldn’t lose.”

Having said it lets something fly inside of her, and she can feel the tears that she’d thought were spent; she can feel one trace down her cheek.

Audrey watches as the words hit him, dealing an all too physical blow **.** A tremor runs through his already tense body.

Audrey watches Nathan unwind, fall back into himself. He lowers the gun in his hand, staring at it in detached confusion and he looks fatigued in a way that not even lack of sleep can account for. Tangled in her mind is the realization he’s giving up. She does the only thing that she can do. She takes advantage of that long moment where his mind is preoccupied. Nathan doesn’t move to react, just stares at her with an odd expression, as she travels the four long strides it takes to get to him.

She grabs his gun hand gently around the wrist and wraps the other around the back of his neck, fingers pressing against the short hair there. And then she’s kissing him. He tastes very faintly of whiskey and she can feel his shuddered exhale against her mouth. Almost immediately, she can feel him respond and his free hand comes up to rest along her right cheek, long fingers curling along her jaw.

It’s striking in its familiarity.

A day ago he was touching her like this and it was goodbye, and that thought drives her.

The hand on his wrist moves to his waist and her fingers wind around his belt loops, pulling him against her, fast and desperate. She’s so tired of losing the things that she loves. A part of her wants him to know that she’s real, that _this_ is real. The rest of her just wants to hold on, to _feel_ him.

_“Audrey.”_

It’s a prayer and a fierce demand, hopeful and alive. And then she feels the hot, wet slide of his mouth against her lips and tastes the salty tang of tears; he gasps as she makes her way into his mouth and she smiles sadly, just for a second. She forgets how long he's been here and she has not and she finds her fingers frantically playing at the hem of his shirt, as she works her way under it and against his skin. She splays her fingers against the hard lines of his sides, and then runs them up, and across the planes of his stomach and over his chest, focusing on the way his muscles tense and tremble in response.

 

_This is desperation._

 

The line of Nathan’s gun presses against her coat, and she shifts slightly, wrapping an open hand around his bare forearm and sliding down to rest along the top of the bandage on  his hand, gently squeezing, encouraging him to just let it go.

_Let it go._

 Nathan goes still and pulls back slightly, but he doesn’t move away.

.0.0.0.

Nathan doesn’t drink often, but when he does, he knows his limits. He can count on one hand the number of times that he’s tested them; clouded judgment coupled with the inability to feel are a dangerous combination. Regardless, the adrenaline coursing through his veins erases any lingering effects of alcohol. His head clears completely somewhere between hearing _that voice_ say his name and turning to see her standing in his door.

_This is not happening_.

Not again.

Nathan knows what his response should be, what his lack of response had cost. _Last time_.He’d promised himself he’d never make that mistake again. He told himself that he’d be ready. But it’s only a little over a year later, and he can’t pull the trigger. He hears himself trying to give her an out. I _t_. Whoever or whatever is standing in front of him.

Fear is there, but it isn’t fear for his life, and this time there’s no one else at risk. No, this time he’s thinking “what if?”

What if he takes the shot and he’s wrong.

And he hates the tug of hope building inside him, even as his rage is building and eating hollowly at his gut.

He hates that even after everything, he _still_ can’t stop hoping.

He lashes out with words and tells himself that the way she flinches in response means nothing.

_This is not happening._

But it is happening and this looks, sounds, and moves like Audrey, and all he can think is that he almost doesn’t care if she’s not real. She’s saying the right words and her eyes are flying around his face and to his hand, and back again. She’s mesmerizing. And the one ache that he wishes he couldn’t feel and _does_ is back. 

The pain is still fresh.

Nathan wonders when it will stop hurting so damn much.

_If_ it will stop.

He wonders if he wants it to stop.

“If something had happened to you, I…”

The way her voice catches when she says it leaves his mind racing for a retort, before whatever else she--it--says makes him forget why he has to fight.

“…Nathan, you were the one thing I couldn’t lose.” The words sound like desperate honesty, and that breaks him in a way that nothing else could.

She was the one thing that he couldn’t lose.

And he lost her.

Time compresses and expands.

_And he still can’t let her go._

No matter how hard he tries, he still can’t let her go.

His gun is still fitted against his palm, and he realizes that he’s almost shot a mirage.  

It’s Sally Rigsby all over again.

She’s moving towards him now, and whatever part of him is capable of lucid thought thinks that _this_ is new.

And then her fingers close around his wrist, soft and firm and slightly chilled, and he _feels_ it. He has just enough time to breathe in sharply.

Everything stops.

Her kiss is rough and dangerous; her palm is as cool against his neck as hers is under his hand, and …

_This is not happening._

But it is and she shifts closer.

_“Audrey.”_

And everything that he wants to say, every word he’s been holding inside, and every hope that he thought was dead are in that word.

This time he kisses her, and between her tongue and the feel of _her_ under his fingers and the way her hands are moving across his body, he feels like he’s flying apart. The ache has taken on a biting sweetness and it wars with the flavor of her mouth and her tears, and makes him feel reckless and indestructible.

 He forgets the gun in his hand until he feels her fingers against his wrist again. The small press of her fingertips - the way that the sensation stops abruptly at the gauze - draws him back into himself.

\---

“Prove it.”He’s staring at her, eyes boring through her and _begging_ for a reason to drop his guard for good. Audrey goes still and she searches his face, trying to find some direction there, but he's just looking at her, looking _into_ her.

She begins at the beginning. ~~~~

“The first time I saw you I thought you were cocky.” she smiles a little at the memory, “Humorous, but cocky - a small town boy with an inflated sense of self-importance ~~.~~...and then I slammed your hand in the door.”

Nathan feels the familiar painful tug of longing in his gut, but it isn't enough, memories aren't safe; he tries to ignore the way that her lips are swollen and she’s more than a little out of breath, and the words come out ragged.  “Doesn't mean I'm not imagining you.”

Audrey is struck by this and suddenly the little things that he’s been saying begin to click into place, and the conclusion she’s coming to is painfully unfair. “You mean…Nathan what happened while I was away?”

“Prove it.” He says it more firmly this time.

The raw quality of his voice is at odds with the way his arms are still holding her to him and the knot in her throat tightens. When she speaks, it’s softly, almost shyly, and she drops her eyes. “When I told you about…about my memories from the orphanage…you’re the only person I’ve told about my childhood. The first person I ever _wanted_ to tell.”

Nathan watches the way her face drops and her brows pull together, the flicker of sadness on her face, and he thinks that she’s the only person that he’s ever truly trusted. The only person he’s ever wanted to trust…but that kind of thinking almost got him killed last time. _Did_ get others killed; he pulls away so that he’s holding her by the shoulders and looking her directly in the eye – frustrated with himself and the cruelty of this whole situation – because this is something that he would _want_ to hear and he can’t trust himself in this.

“ _Prove_ it.” He doesn’t care that he’s repeating himself, because this is the one thing that they’ve always had – she knows how to get through to him. Audrey _gets_ him.

Audrey frantically searches for something that he can trust, that his fear of his own memories won’t immediately discount. She switches tactics, and her voice grows firmer. “You’re an ass to Duke. He’s trying Nathan, and half of the time you throw it back in his face.”

Nathan stares at her - his expression part shock, part confusion, and part stubborn resistance. Even three years can’t change some things, Audrey thinks absently.

She can see the doubt, still there, lurking behind his eyes and in the tension in his shoulders. She’s caught him off guard and that’s something. “I’ve been having blackouts…..when I had the flashbacks of Lucy.” She stops again, and the feelings come rushing back, “I had one at the Holloway House. I passed out, and you…” She lets the bitterness seep into her voice, because even if it’s not entirely his fault, it’s _honest_ , “You went to _Jordan_ , Nathan.”

She drops off, staring openly at him, even as consternation covers his face.

She’s managed to honestly throw him, and Nathan goes through every memory – the ones he’d thought he’d gone through a hundred times – trying to process this information. Instinct tells him that it's truth, and he’s struck by the realization that this _fits_ somehow.

“ _What?”_ he sounds as taken aback as he looks, and there’s a note of self-accusation in the question.

Audrey feels some relief at his response, and it tempers the guilt she feels for having related this _now_ , when the revelation is more than a little selfish. “The memories that I’ve been having...that I’ve had,” She’s not sure how phrasing works when time-distortion is involved, but she shakes her head and plows ahead anyway. “I’ve been blacking out, getting headaches. Claire was worried.” Her voice fades momentarily, “When Duke went down after Daphne ,and I almost feel off the bluff at Cliff Road…and then at the Holloway House, I had one of Lucy…and James. I blacked out for a few minutes. Duke was there, he caught me…” she’s getting off topic, or rather, she’s her words are jumping around as she tries to string together some type of cohesive explanation. “It’s how I knew how to escape.”

Her face is running the gamut of expressions and even as her words are sinking in, all Nathan can think is that she’s heartbreakingly beautiful. Then her eyes snap up and they’re full of accusation and hurt.

“You didn’t even _notice_ , Nathan.”

The allegation is like a punch to the gut; it’s unexpected. There’s still the lingering suspicion, but rationality tells him that there’d be no benefit in telling him this if she _wasn’t_ real.

_Why wouldn’t she tell him?_

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The thought tumbles out on its own accord and carries no little blame of its own. He’s had more than enough time to reflect on their last month’s together; she pushed him away, time and again. That’s something he _knows_ and in the quiet moments - the lulls between the storms – he’s allowed himself to feel anger over that. Over the time that she wasted – that they wasted – over the time that he’ll never get back.

The bite in his question is warranted, expected almost, but it still takes her aback. There are so many things that they haven’t talked about, so many things that got ignored and pushed aside in the rush of panic and Troubles and jealousy. She tells him the simplest truth.

“Because I knew you’d try to protect me.” It’s open, and the memory of her fear still haunts her. “I thought… I thought that if I let you close. I thought it would get you killed, Nathan.” It all seems so ridiculous now. “Like the Colorado Kid,” it’s coming out disjointed and _wrong_ , but she doesn’t have the energy to care, “like _James_.”

She says it forcefully and finds herself leaning in and laying her hands along his forearms;  she’s using the contact to ground herself him, repeating herself because she wants it to matter, “I needed you _safe_ Nathan. I couldn’t lose you.”

“Why would _my_ safety matter if I lost _you_?” He hardly has any restraint left and his voice is coarse and heavy. She still can’t _see_ it – that keeping him safe had cost more than he was willing to pay. This is the moment that he reaches his breaking point.

Audrey realizes, belatedly, that she’s crying again; she doesn’t care. She’s nearly yelling when she responds, trying to make the weight of her words force him to hear her. “Because I _couldn’t_ lose you. And I wasn’t going to because you decided to do something foolish to protect me. _I_ needed you safe!”

_It’s selfish and it’s not._

“And _I_ needed you here!” Nathan’s answer is equally forceful, his face rife with _pain_ **.** He pulls her back to him abruptly, almost roughly, because now he believes her; he can’t _not_ believe her, and he presses his lips against her hair. Then, more quietly, “ _Fuck.”_ He breathes her in.

_She’s real. She’s here._

He hasn’t lost her.

He fists his hands in her shirt, clinging to her like she’s the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Audrey exhales hard, as much from surprise and relief as much as from the strength of his arms. And then she clutches at him just as madly, mouth pressing against his exposed neck - her fingernails dig into the bare skin of his lower back -  and murmuring , “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” then she’s apologizing and promising and softly, frantically kissing the line up his neck and down his jaw. She’s not sure if anything that she’s saying is making sense. It doesn’t matter, because he’s nearly trembling under her touch, and a smile tugs at her lips.

Nathan turns his head, finally, catching that smile with his kiss. The sensation of her hands on his back is nearly overwhelming, but it isn’t enough. It’s never enough with her, and he tangles one hand in her hair, the other splaying against her hip, his thumb stroking the skin where her shirt has ridden up.

Audrey feels him fit against her, his hands hold her to him in a way that stops just short of being physically painful; it feels so good that she can’t think. His mouth is hungry and hot and selfish on hers. So she gives and takes; he shivers as her nails dig into his skin.

_“Nathan…”_ She mumbles it against his lips, between breathes, and then catches the lower one between her teeth and bites lightly.

He groans into her mouth, and his knees nearly buckle at that, grasping at her clumsily, trying to steady himself, but it’s all so much. _Audrey_.

He pushes down every reason that he shouldn’t be letting this happen.

_Every sin that he hasn’t atoned for._

_Every promise he’s made in her memory, that the next time he’d do things differently._

_That she deserves more than the shell of a man that he’s become._

Years of despair and longing and numbness, are instantly erased by _her_ and the relief that he hasn’t failed, not entirely.

Audrey feels him falter just a bit, and follows him as he steps back, butting up against the kitchen counter awkwardly. Her hands pull at his shirt in earnest now and he finally lets her go long enough to slide it over his head. She looks at him then, really _looks_ , at the way he’s breathing heavily and his eyes are shining and alive and so _full_ that it’s her turn to shiver. There’s a niggling reminder that they’re not truly alone, a brief feeling of surprise that they’re still uninterrupted, but she pushes it aside. She’s taking the time that they have. Nathan’s standing there, looking back at her, and his fingertips have returned to rest under the hem of her shirt, lightly.

She skims both hands – open and slow – along the muscular lines of his sides, his abs, and up again, over his chest and across his shoulders. There’s a strange sort of vindication bubbling inside her , a belated response to the dormant feeling of jealousy that she’d felt watching him with Sarah, mixed up with a million other things that she’ll worry about later. She’s making this count. She traces faded scars, maps them with her fingers, and watches the vulnerability in his eyes. They’re so faint that some are nearly invisible, but she recognizes the gunshot wound from Ted Ford. Here and there she sees marks that seem fresher, though still faint – there are far more than she would have expected – and she shoots him a look of reproof because _this_ is carelessness and she wants him to know that she _knows_ it.

Nathan is frozen under her touch, breathing rapidly and shallowly, and the room swims slightly. He has to put one hand on the island top to steady himself and he sends a lamp crashing to the floor in the process, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to let himself care. Audrey doesn’t respond to its fall, and he’s not going to miss feeling any of _this_. He focuses on her touch, as it plays on his skin, slipping his free hand further under her shirt and brushing feather-light against the soft skin of her lower back.

Audrey’s fingers find a second bullet wound; she thinks of Jordan and the Barn and the ache of watching the betrayal in his eyes as Duke held him at gunpoint comes back full force. She leaves one palm splayed over his breastbone, against his heart, and uses the other to pull his head down and his lips against hers again – softer this time, and sadder. Then it’s not enough, and she brings the other hand up and loops that arm around his neck, rising up on her toes. She kisses him _goodbye_ and _hello_ and _I’m here_ all wrapped into one.

Audrey moves her hands to his face, intimately and firmly. He’s here and she’s here and she can sense the shift in his desperation at the same time that she feels her own change into something else – something more. This has nothing to do with the fact that she’s pressed up against a maddeningly attractive man, and everything to do with the way the vise inside her chest _finally_ loosens and she feels _safe_ for the first time in a long time. Nathan pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, and then they both exhale slowly. She moves again, laying her head under his chin, finding the solid pounding of his heart and holding on to it, arms wrapping around his waist and across his back. She listens as the rhythm begins to slow and settle.

And then the shouts come, and the hard and fast fall of approaching footsteps.

\---

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry about the rewrite, but I think it will serve us better in the long run.


	4. Only My Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: CHAPTER 3 has been revised!! There were a few elements in it that have been bugging me since I wrote them. They turned out to be too difficult to ignore and helped send me into writer’s block. They have been fixed. I STRONGLY RECOMMEND YOU REREAD IT BEFORE PROCEEDING.  
> Okay, glad that’s out of the way. For your reviews, follows, faves and PATIENCE – you rock, many thanks, TRULY. Remaining mistakes are mine :P.

*****READ AUTHOR’S NOTE FIRST*****

* * *

_Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,_  
Enwrought with golden and silver light,  
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths  
Of night and light and the half-light,  
I would spread the cloths under your feet:  
But I, being poor, have only my dreams.

_W.B. Yeats, "Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven"_

* * *

_Should have told her,_ Dwight thinks.

Audrey’s departure from the vehicle has done little to lighten the mood and a short recap has the three men falling into a dark silence. The situation in Haven sounds direr when the “highlights” – a term that’s nearly laughable in its inaccuracy – are packed into a few minutes of time.

Duke has turned to playing sporadically with the radio, shuffling through station after station and providing an increasingly agitating commentary as he does so. The smuggler is clearly on edge and his jibes are more focused on filling the silence than anything, and a few years of absence has made the chatter no less grating on Dwight’s nerves. 

Dwight’s failure to comment has less to do with his patience and more to do with the realization that he should have told Audrey all of this before he let her go inside  – about the more pressing difficulties that they face daily in Haven – not just the Troubles, but the factions, the infighting, the political struggles for power. About the Rigsby mess and exactly _how_ they’d lost Stan. About the nightmares and the way Nathan never puts down his gun anymore, hasn’t had a day off in the last 13 months.

The Chief’s been a man driven and while somehow his body has taken the punishment, it’s wearing on him. Nathan’s become reckless and Dwight is growing tired of watching the man he now considers a close friend run himself into the ground.

He should have told Audrey that the man she left has given up on _everything_ except finding a way to end the Troubles; he sees his life as disposable.

.O.O.O.O.

He’ll give Sasquatch one thing; the sound system is top notch.

Duke’s already on edge – too much crazy packed into too few hours – and this music is doing little to remedy that.

“You’re killing me Hendrickson. Country? Actually, this shouldn’t even be classified as Country. This is just plain bad.” He turns to James, in exaggerated sincerity, “I’m sorry. On behalf of _all_ mankind. We’ve managed a lot more than this in the last few decades.”

“Crocker, you touch those buttons again, you’re walking back to town.” Dwight’s nerves are finally starting to fray around the edges.

Suddenly, Duke feels the overwhelming desire to push just that much harder. He shoots Dwight a challenging smirk in the half second before his fingers dart out again. For someone built like a smaller, more compact version of the Hulk, Dwight moves deceptively fast. His hand comes down hard on Duke’s forearm, sending Duke’s palm skating across the controls.

They move in unison, hands clapping over ears in a frantic attempt to block out the decibels.

Bad rap – toneless, talentless, and complete with the accoutrement of staccato gunfire - is cranked up to an extreme that nearly guarantees hearing loss.

It’s over nearly as soon as it starts.  Dwight’s reflexes are, again, freakishly fast and now Duke has two sets of eyes shooting daggers at him. Magic barns, bullet magnets, and now his musical sensibilities may never recover.

It’s almost like he never left.

He gives a wry chuckle and concedes, somewhat apologetically, “I stand corrected, that…that was worse than Country.”

Dwight clamps his hands down around the steering wheel and let’s out an exasperated  sound that’s just short of a growl. Duke’s bracing for the response when they hear the distant sound of shattering glass.

“Shit.”

One syllable, but there’s enough alarm in Dwight’s voice that by the time he literally leaps from the van for the house, Duke and James are spilling out the other side.

.O.O.O.O.

Hind sight is always twenty-twenty.

Dwight, Duke and James come pell-mell through the doorframe, squeezing through an area much too small for three grown men. The pine door reverberates off of the wall with enough force that Audrey half expects it to unhinge.

“Nathan!” Dwight’s single word is laced with a heavy concern that verges on panic, so uncharacteristic that it sends gooseflesh racing up her forearms.

She can feel the exact moment that Nathan shuts down.

He doesn’t immediately pull away, but his eyes close off. Audrey starts to reach for him – her failsafe reaction, she realizes – and finds she’s a millisecond to slow.  Nathan’s started moving, fast, grabbing his discarded shirt from the floor and pulling it on before she can adjust to his movement.

He pulls his sleeves down firmly over his wrists and his lips form a thin white line, these are the only indication that this is anything but ordinary.

That nagging sensation that she’s a step behind is back, and she can feel it dangling just out of reach.

_The largest elephant in a room that’s currently chocked chock full of elephants._

Audrey’s eyes follow Nathan and hindsight kicks into overdrive.

Duke’s watching them with pained resignation, James’ gaze falls to the floor immediately and then pins itself to the far wall, hands plunging uncomfortably into his pockets. Dwight’s shoulders drop by a mile.

It’s the only reaction of the three that she can spend the time processing now.

_Later._

“You good, Chief?” Dwight’s tone conveys a closeness with Nathan that hadn’t been there before.

_Three years ago._

There’s a cold hollow in the pit of her stomach.

Nathan has stepped completely around her and nods at the Cleaner - _Officer Hendrickson_ \- but he makes a b-line to Duke and pulls up a pace away.

He finally cracks a small smile; while Duke’s still eying him warily, Nathan pulls him into a fierce hug, clapping him on the back forcefully enough that Duke lets out an abbreviated cough.

Nathan says something to Duke, a short whispered exchange that only the two can hear, and Duke’s face grows serious before he returns the embrace.

When Nathan finally turns to James, he hesitates and then settles for grabbing his son firmly by the shoulders.

She’s struck with the strange sensation that she’s watching everything happen from far away. This is the moment when things should suddenly start playing in their favor, where they finally catch a break.

_They never catch a break._

Nathan steps back to stand at Duke’s side _._

“What took you so long?” Nathan’s voice is rough with emotion or exhaustion – probably both – and he’s nearly grinning at Duke.

 “Yeah, well, turns out mystic personality-sucking barns are a bitch to navigate.”  Duke hand rubs at the back of his neck; the delay in his response is minuscule. The time they’ve lost – that they’ve _all_ lost – hangs in the in-between.

Nathan turns to Dwight, not towards her, as she approaches. And while she should have expected it, it still leaves her feeling lost. Audrey bites her cheek in an attempt to ignore the fact that the smooth, reliant way that they functioned – as partners – is gone, replaced by this awkward, claustrophobic stutter that has its claws clamped tight around her sternum.

They come together, all of them, in a staggered, informal pentagon.

“Who else knows?”  Nathan’s voice is low, barely louder the sound of shuffled feet.

“We came straight here from the station.”  Dwight’s comment leaves room for the obvious. The trio walked through half of Haven on their way to the station, and the streets looked deserted, but they can’t really be sure. Dwight raises a brow as he glances at Audrey.

“We didn’t see anyone.” She directs it at Nathan and he finally looks at her. There’s no hesitation in his gaze, but she can’t read it either, and she doesn’t know what that means.  Nathan’s had plenty of time to learn how to function alone; Audrey’s left with the overwhelming sensation that she’s missing a limb. She wonders if this was what it was like for him in the beginning.

“Good,” Nathan tosses it out - not coldly, but evenly, almost distractedly – before nodding to Dwight. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He glances at the wall and she registers the hour for the first time.

_12:47 a.m._

“Get the group together. They can spend the night here,” Nathan gestures to Duke, James, and her, “We’ll meet you at 7.”

Duke’s _agitated_ movements are no longer contained by his crossed arms, and one hand flies out, knocking against Nathan’s bicep, “Hold on there, Captain America. Last I checked, I have a fine eating establishment, and an even finer boat that more than likely hasn’t been out of the bay for three years. And there’s no way in _hell_ that I’m waking up at 7 a.m. “ He takes a breath before continuing on just as adamantly, “Now, I need sleep, Audrey needs sleep, James needs sleep, and you look like you could use about, oh I don’t know, a week’s worth. I’m going home. Now. 10 a.m.”

He pivots towards the door, and back, chagrined. “That is if a fine member of the local Police Department doesn’t mind offering me a lift to the Marina….”

He goes instantly still, so quickly that Audrey has a hard time processing it before he spins on Nathan.

Duke’s voice is dark and worried. “Nate, the Rouge…”

Nathan catches on first, “The Rouge is fine. She’s ready to go whenever you want her.”

  Audrey watches as what he’s saying sinks in for Duke.

_Nathan’s been taking care of the Rouge for him._

 “Thank you, Nathan.” Duke’s voice breaks, gratitude and relief evident in his face.

Dwight’s smile is slight as he turns to the door, but it’s there, and Audrey finds more reassurance in it than she probably should. Nathan breezes past her, following him to the porch, ostensibly to finalize details about tomorrow’s meeting.

She catches Nathan’s “stay safe,” to Dwight and it sounds more like “keep him safe.”

It’s odd that pulling them apart has managed to draw Duke and Nathan together.

Audrey looks up when Duke sidles up beside her.

“You alright there, Officer Parker?” his tone is affectionate, and he jostles her slightly with his shoulder.

They still have so much to talk about, she thinks.

_She has so much she needs to tell him._

She smiles and puts more certainty into her response than she feels, “Yes.”

“Listen,” he continues, and his voice is now deadly serious, “the newest member of the Haven PD filled us in on some of what happened when we were…out of commission,” Duke’s eyes shoot up to James and she sees her son’s jaw tighten as he nods in affirmation. He’s standing nearly where he was when they entered, still silent, and she feels a pang when she realizes that she’s not used to _looking_ for him.

 “Some of the things that went down, Audrey…” Duke continues, and then he makes sure that he has her full attention, squeezing her shoulder lightly. “…you need to talk to Nathan.”

He knows exactly how he’s said it; his meaning is clear and she knows what that must cost him. His expression is similar to the one he’d worn when he’d seen her with Nathan, just minutes ago, but not quite as pained.

_She has so much she needs to tell him. Later._

He pulls her in for a hug and presses a quick kiss into her hair, before he pulls away.

“I’ll see you crazy kids in the morning.” Duke feigns a punch to James’ arm, and shakes his head in amused exasperation when his only response is a raised eyebrow, “Don’t you go having too much fun without me, Flannel.”

Duke shoots Audrey one last look that manages to be both comical and cockily confident, more for her benefit, she realizes than anything. Then he jogs after Dwight, who’s now somehow halfway to the van. She holds on to the humor, until the van pulls back down the driveway.

.O.O.O.O.

“Are you alright?” Audrey’s voice goes soft automatically.

James shrugs and presses the heel of one hand against the center of his forehead, gives her a somber smirk.

“Honestly? I think I’m still trying to process everything.” His casual tone belies the gravity of that statement ** _._**

He pulls one of the blankets from the pile that Nathan’s set out on the end table, “I’ll take the couch if you don’t mind.

She’d be inclined to think that he’s doing it to allow her some time alone with Nathan, but the restlessness in his eyes says different. She has a feeling that it might have to do with grappling with things that will take time and more than a few hours of sleep to process, but they’re talking and it’s a start.

Audrey moves to hug him before she thinks. There’s an awkward instant where she hesitates and James attempts a belated return of her offer. They end up meeting in a not so comfortable side-hug, but he chuckles and then she does too. It ends up being less of a blunder than she thought it would be.

“Goodnight….James.”

James flops down on the cushions unceremoniously, managing to pull the blanket with him as he turns away. He does a convincing job of falling asleep immediately.

When Audrey turns around, Nathan’s eyes are locked on them. His look is raw with loss; it burns through her. And then it’s gone again and he finishes drying the last plate, a remnant of a hurried, but much needed meal of cold cuts and cheese; she doesn’t remember anything tasting quite that good before. She and James were hungry enough that their single-minded focus on their food had made the silence seem almost normal. Coupled with Nathan’s search for bedding and toiletries, there hadn’t been any time for conversation, no delayed, uncomfortable pauses.

Until now.

Nathan closes the cupboard, hangs the dish towel, and then mumbles a strained, “Goodnight.”

Audrey’s ready with her own blanket and when he exits immediately down the hall, she follows. She steps momentarily into the guest room, simply furnished and clean, but bare in a way that speaks to its lack of use. She sets the blanket on top of the burgundy coverlet and fights the urge to drop down onto the mattress.

_She’s so tired._

But they need to talk and she’s not willing to pass that up in favor of sleep. She’s fully aware that she’s taking advantage of his emotional compromised state, and she’s completely prepared to exploit it.

Nathan’s door is open when she reaches it, though Audrey knows it’s due to  the habit of living alone rather than any invitation for her to follow him. He’s standing at the foot of his bed, hands resting on the pine frame. His posture is resigned, head lowered, and he looks like he has no idea of what to do next – no intention of moving past that point.

When she speaks, she puts conscious effort into relaxing, moving slow, and this hesitancy around him is so unnatural that it verges on comical.

_Or desperate._

“Nathan.”

His head comes up slowly, but he doesn’t startle; he’s paying more attention than she’d thought. But he turns to face her rather than moving away, so she steps closer until she’s close enough to reach for him. He doesn’t retreat, just stares down at the place where her hands close around his, the place where her thumb traces patterns between his thumb and forefinger.

She waits.

“Audrey.” His demeanor isn’t the same. There’s reservation where there should be anticipation.

She wants to scream.

Cry.

Go back in time to the place where she invited him up to her apartment.

Convince him to come.

Tell him she loves him before she goes into the Barn.

She wants to take back three years’ worth of scars and loss and hopelessness.

Tell him she loves him. Then. Now. Still.

It’s not the time for that, because he won’t hear her now, not really, won’t believe her even if he wants to.

And she hates that something else needs to come first – she needs to fill in the gaps.

She doesn’t know what they are, but she knows where to start.

 

“Nathan, what happened to Stan?”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Season 4, why are you so far away? This will be a progressive/muti-chap fic.


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